2nd Chance (Women's Murder Club 2)

“What are you doing here?” he exclaimed. “You should be home. Good God, Lieutenant, if anyone has a well-earned leave coming to them—”

I stopped him in midsentence. Then I told him what Claire had found. Suddenly, Tracchio looked as if he had swallowed a mouthful of bad oysters.

“I don’t buy this, Lieutenant,” he said. “You solved the case. It’s over.”

“You may not buy it,” Claire said firmly, “but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my professional life. There is no way Coombs could’ve pulled off those shots.”

“But this is all speculation,” Tracchio objected. “The links to the Sikes killing… Coombs’s Chimera background… his qualifications with weapons. These are all facts. Your facts, Lieutenant.” He wagged his finger at me, stabbing me point by point with my own analysis. “No one else could possibly fit that profile. I can’t argue with your conclusions, Dr. Washburn, but eliminating Coombs…”

“We can test his DNA against the sample of skin we found under Estelle Chipman’s nails,” Claire replied, “which is what I’m going to do. But I’ll bet my reputation against yours, they don’t match.”

“In the meantime, we have to reopen the case,” I said.

“Reopen the case?” Tracchio gasped. “I’m not going to give any such order.”

“If Chimera’s still out there,” I pressed, “he could be planning another hit right now. I suspect that he is.”

“Only yesterday,” Tracchio blurted, “you were one hundred percent sure Coombs was Chimera.”

“That was yesterday,” I said. “We told you why it’s changed. Right now I’m about one hundred percent sure Coombs isn’t Chimera.”

“What you’ve told me is medical speculation. I want solid proof. Get me the DNA check.”

“That could take days,” Claire said. “A week…”

“Then match the ballistics,” Tracchio ordered. “Chief Mercer was killed with a thirty-eight. I’ll guarantee you Clapper will show it was the same gun.”

“I’m on it. But in the meantime—”

“There is no meantime, Lieutenant. As far as I’m concerned, you did one hell of a job. Put your own life on the line. What you should be on now is medical leave, not trying to start another investigation.”

Claire and I looked at each other.

Then Tracchio picked up a few papers, the way figures of authority learn to do to communicate that a meeting is over. Fuck him.

Back in the hallway, I looked at Claire. “I’m about to bring the whole city down on us. You better be damn sure.”

“Course I’m sure,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to wait for ballistics, Claire. And pray that nothing happens in between. I’m also putting everybody back on the investigation.”

Chapter 108

“CINDY THOMAS, is that you?”

Aaron Winslow almost couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. When Cindy opened the door to her apartment, she was wearing a tailored black pantsuit, sling-back heels, a solitaire diamond necklace. Directly behind her, he could see her dining room—lit candles, china, silver flatware, and crystal.

Cindy stepped forward and gave Aaron a kiss. Then she pulled away. God, she did look stunning. She was absolutely radiant tonight.

“All right, I have a confession to make,” she said. “The Armani suit belongs to my friend Jill, the lawyer. So do the Ferragamo shoes. If I spill anything on the Armani, or as much as scuff the shoes, she’ll never talk to me again.”

Cindy smiled and took Aaron’s hand.

“Come in. Don’t be too afraid. Even though I am. Tonight we celebrate the end of a horrible siege and a terrible man.”

Aaron had started to laugh. “You certainly look beautiful for the celebration.”

Cindy continued to beam. “Yes, and I prepared almond-crusted chicken, a romaine salad, orzo pasta with peas and mint. Unfortunately, the chicken happens to be one of only three dinners I know how to make.”